


visions from somewhere in italy

by januarymay



Series: visions from somewhere in italy [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Boys In Love, Eventual Smut, Inspired by Call Me By Your Name, Italy, Kissing, M/M, Sunshine - Freeform, boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/januarymay/pseuds/januarymay
Summary: little pieces of writing that show snippets of Elio and Oliver during that summer in Italy.*these are by no means following the complete timeline of the book or movie - I'm just borrowing Aciman's characters because I love them very much.





	visions from somewhere in italy

**Author's Note:**

> let me say this up front: there will probably be weird timeline things or something that doesn't jive with the book/movie. when I write these I just let the words flow, so I'm not paying attention to details like those...this isn't a complete story after all. it's just visions.

His movements were always undisturbed. From the way he walked to the way he talked he was the picture of calm, cool, and collected. I, of course, had ideas that he was putting all those airs on just to seem…well, seem confident. After a couple of weeks of seeing him approach the breakfast table like he belonged and clap my father on the shoulder like they were old buddies, I realized that it wasn’t an act. 

God, I wished I could be like him. As he said once, he knows himself. If that’s what knowing oneself looks like, I tried harder than I ever had before to know myself. Maybe, I thought hopelessly as week three began, everyone knows themselves differently. His knowing was a lot better than mine ever would be.

“You look worn out and the day hasn’t even started yet kid,” he teased as we pushed our wicker chairs back up to the table that was being cleared of used dishes, crust from toast left on mine and three empty eggshells left on his. “How about a dip in the river as a wake-up call?”

Both of us were wearing appropriate swimming gear already, and the sun was high and blazing as usual, making my pale skin ache for shade or a cooling substance. The river was familiar to me, cold and clear, and seeing him dip in the water like he was born of it was always a welcome sight. 

“Why not,” I said, resisting the urge to say ‘later.’ I smiled to myself at the thought of throwing his word back at him. I was sure he would’ve laughed that boisterous jock laugh of his and pat my shoulder, and say something encouraging like, “no time for jokes, I want to cool off,” and I would have melted anyway and we would be walking the same walk just five minutes later because of my urge to be like him and taste his words leaving my mouth. 

“Good,” he replied with a smile, perfectly straight white teeth glistening in the summer sunshine. “Let me freshen up and we’ll head out in a few.”  
He spoke as if we were parting, but we weren’t – instead, the walk up the stairs to our connected rooms was silent as if we had left each other for a short time. I suppose in a way we had parted – him to his thoughts and me to mine. To my dismay we both met in the bathroom again to do the same activity: brush our teeth. 

It was in silence, the only sound being the water from the faucet and the small sounds that come from the brush itself. My spit mingled with his in the sink and I watched it go down the drain mixed with water. I wondered if that would be the only time our spit would intertwine and mingle. The fresh pink color of his slightly wet lips made me long for a taste, especially since I knew our breath was similarly minty at that moment. But he departed to his room, stripping off his shirt on the way, and grabbed his sunglasses and suntan lotion from his desk. He threw them into a satchel that was already half full of papers and a book, and I made haste to grab my own things, wanting us to walk down the stairs together and leave together and ultimately, be together.

My own backpack had leftovers from my day trip to town yesterday, so I mirrored him and stripped off my shirt, set my sunglasses atop my head and emerged from my room at the exact time he did. 

“Perfect timing,” I said nonchalantly, unintentionally brushing arms with him as we trod down the staircase. It seemed hotter than it had been less than five minutes ago, and now my bare upper body was glistening with the beginnings of sweat. He was already striding slightly ahead of me, giving me an excellent view of his broad and tanned shoulder blades. They were pronounced underneath his golden skin, giving the impression of muscle and strength just waiting to be called upon. It wasn’t a bad sight for half-past nine in the morning. 

“If you walk that slow, we’ll barely have five minutes before it’s time to come back for lunch,” He turned around to face me, walking backward down the driveway. “No bikes today, let’s go on foot,” he added as we reached the shed at the end of the drive. I nodded an agreement and he smiled down at me. I felt my heart increase in speed knowing it was just the two of us that had made plans to go to the river. Our friends were left to their own devices, and we weren’t lounging around the pool where parents could hold a watchful eye or join us in the sunshine. 

Just the two of us, together. All I had wanted and yet what I avoided since he stepped out of the cab on his first day.


End file.
